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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/A_Vespertine on 2024-10-23 02:20:09+00:00.
“What’s got you in such a sour mood, Brandon? It’s payday!” my veteran colleague Vinson asked as the rusty freight elevator noisily rattled its way up towards the penthouse suite.
For the past year or two – I’m honestly not sure how long it’s been, actually – I’ve been under contract for an otherworldly masked Lord who calls himself Ignazio di Incognauta. He’s not a demon, exactly. He’s closer to Fae, I think, but I don’t fully understand what he is. I never sought him out. He came to me. I asked him how he even knew who I was, and he slapped me across the face for my insolence.
I still signed up though. That’s how desperate I was. He doesn’t waste his time offering deals to people who can say no.
He sends me and the rest of my crew out on what I can best describe as odd jobs. Half the time – hell, most of the time – I’m not even sure exactly what it is we’re doing. Most of the crew have been around longer than I have, and some of them aren’t human, but they all seem to have a better idea of what’s going on than me.
Our foreman Vothstag is technically the one in charge, but he’s not all there in the head; the top of his cranium’s been removed and a good chunk of his brain’s been scooped out. He mostly just barks guttural nonsense that none of us really understand, but somehow compels us to do what we’re supposed to, even when we don’t know what that is. He’s a hulking hunchback with an overgrown beard who usually wears an elk skull to cover up the hole in his head. If he was ever human, I don’t think he is now.
Vinson is our de facto leader, however, since he’s more or less a normal guy that we can relate to. Aside from Vothstag, he’s been working for Ignazio the longest. I won’t bother describing what he looks like, since the rest of us wear gas masks on duty. They’re partially to protect us from environmental and workplace hazards, partially to conceal our identities, but mainly to bring us more easily under Ignazio’s control.
That was why were all wearing our masks on the elevator, incidentally. We were on our way to see the big boss, and our contracts made it very clear we were never to remove our masks in his presence.
“Come on, Vinson. You know meetings with Iggy never go well,” I replied bluntly.
“Oh, it’s just bluster. You know that. He’s got to put the fear of God into us,” Vinson claimed. “If he wasn’t actually satisfied with our performance, we wouldn’t still be here.”
“No, Brandon’s right. Iggy wouldn’t have called all ten of us in just to hand us our scrip and call us lazy arses,” Loewald chimed in.
“There’s nine of us, now,” Klaus reminded him grimly.
“Right, sorry. Hard to keep track some days,” Loewald admitted. “Regardless; something’s up, and the odds are pretty slim it will be something we like.”
I cringed as Vothstag shouted some of his garbled nonsense back towards Loewald.
“Yes, I know we’re not being paid to have fun, but –”
“We’re not being paid at all!” Klaus interrupted. “None of us are getting any real money until our contracts are up, and have any of you actually known anyone who made it to the end of their contract?”
He recoiled as Vothstag spun around and began roaring at him, hot spittle flying out from beneath his mask of carved bone as he furiously waved his fist in his face.
“He’s right, Klaus. You’re being paranoid,” Vinson said in an eerily calm tone. “I’ve served out multiple contracts, and I’ve got the silver to prove it.”
He confidently reached into his pocket and held a troy-ounce coin of Seelie Silver between his fingers. Fish and Chips, the pair of three-foot-tall… somethings that work for us immediately crowded around him and began eyeing it greedily.
“That’s right boys, take a gander. That’s powerful magic right there, and you’ll get one of these for every moon you’ve worked at the end of your contracts,” he reminded us before quickly pocketing the coin away again. “Unless, of course, you do something to get your contract prematurely terminated; then you’ll have nothing to show for it but a fistful of expired scrip! So keep your heads down, mouths shut, and your eyes on the prize. You’ll have pockets jangling full of coins soon enough.”
As discreetly as I could, I slipped my hands into my pockets and rubbed my one Seelie coin for good luck. None of them knew I had it, because I didn’t want to explain how I got it, but that little bit of fortune it brought me had almost been enough to let me escape once.
If I could just muster up the skill to make the best use of my luck, it would be enough to get me out for good one day.
The freight elevator finally came to a stop, and the doors creaked open to reveal the spacious and sumptuous penthouse of our employer. Portraits, animal heads, shields, weapons, and most of all masquerade masks covered nearly every square inch of the walls. Amidst the suits of armour and porcelain vases, there were dozens of priceless ornaments strewn throughout the room. They were incredibly tempting to steal, which was their whole point. Stealing from the boss was a violation of your contract, and you did not want to break your contract.
The wide windows on the far wall offered a panoramic view of our decaying company town, nestled in a valley between sharp crimson mountains beneath a xanthous sky twinkling with a thousand black stars. You may have heard of such a place before, it has many names, but I will speak none of them here.
Ignazio was sitting on a reclining couch in front of the fireplace, some paperwork left out on the coffee table and a featureless mask like a silver spiderweb clutched in his hand. Ignazio himself always wore the top half of a golden Oni mask, which in and of itself wasn’t unusual for our company, but the odd thing was that several portraits in the penthouse showed that it had once been a full mask.
I’ve always wondered what happened to the bottom half.
Aside from that, Ignazio wasn’t too unusual looking. He was tall, skinny, and swarthy with a pronounced chin, tousled dark brown hair and always dressed in doublets of silk and velvet like he was performing Shakespeare or something.
Vothstag went into the room first, with Vinson almost, but not quite, at his side. Fish and Chips scamped after them, followed by Loewald, Klaus, and myself.
The last two members of our crew are called Hamm and Gristle, and they’re the two I know the least about. They keep to themselves, and I don’t think I’ve ever even seen them with their masks off. I have seen them without gloves on though, and both of their hands are white with pink-tinged fingers. I have no idea what that means, but for some reason, I always found it oddly unsettling.
The only thing I know for sure about them is that they’re the only survivors of another crew that tried to run out on their contract, and I know better than to ask for details about that.
“Gentlemen, Gentlemen, right on time,” Ignazio greeted us as he waved us over. He positioned himself on his couch to make it impossible for any of us to sit beside him, and none of us dared to take a seat at any of the clawfooted armchairs that were meant for guests with much higher stations in life. “I’ve got this moon’s scrip books all stamped and approved. You’ll notice they’re a bit light, seeing as how you were slightly behind quota on this assignment.”
None of us objected, and none of us were particularly surprised. I was grateful that the mask hid my expression, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one. I still had to make an effort to mind my body language though. Being so accustomed to his employees and compatriots wearing masks, Ignazio was quite astute to body language.
Vinson accepted the stack of nine booklets and nodded gratefully.
“We appreciate your leniency, my lord, and look forward to earning back our privileges on our next assignment,” he said.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Ignazio grinned as he took a sip from his crystal chalice. He set it down on the coffee table and picked up a dossier. “Halloween is fast approaching, and that means we need costumes and candy. Costumes we have in abundance, obviously, but candy’s one vice I don’t usually keep well stocked.”
“So we’re actually stealing candy from babies on our next job?” Klaus asked.
“Nothing so quotidian,” Ignazio sneered. “Remind me; have any of you met Icky before?”
The name meant nothing to me, but I glanced from side to side to see if anyone else reacted to it. I could have sworn I saw Hamm and Gristle perk their heads up slightly.
“She’s that Clown woman, right? The one in charge of that god-awful circus?” Vinson asked.
“I beg your pardon? It’s an enchanted Circus that travels the worlds and offers sanctuary to paranormal vagabonds in need,” Ignazio claimed half-heartedly. “And I might be able to pawn a few of you off on them if it comes to that, so be careful you don’t fall any further behind on your quotas. But you’re right; she is a Clown, with a capital C, and Clowns love candy. She’ll be attending my All Hallows’ Ball this year, and I don’t want her to feel excluded, so we’ll need some real top-shelf candy on offer.”
“Ah… we’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop here, boss,” Vinson confessed as most of us shared nervous glances with one another. “You want us to get candy? Fancy candy? I… I don’t get it. What’s the catch?”
“Oh god, we’re not taking it from babies: we’re serving the babies with it!” Loewald…
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